Can't Let it Be
by lost.long.ago
Summary: A retake on the series in a slightly altered universe. Alex has just joined the team, and Olivia is still a fiery rookie under an older Elliot's watchful guidance. A curve-ball Homicide ends up on the shoulders of the 1-6, and this time, it becomes personal.
1. Chapter 1

_I kinda started a on-a-whim SVU fic along one night, and, well, I learned that spur-of-the-moment writing in pursuit of a realistic(ish... in terms of the story, at least) romance, with half a bottle of schnapps in me, doesn't work so well. Took it down, but couldn't get the idea of it out of my head, so here's the legit attempt._

* * *

Olivia's pager buzzed just as her hand pulled open a glass door to the precinct. Brushing the side of her worn leather coat out of the way, her fingers grasped the small device and pulled it to her face, the motion smooth after nearly a year of working with the Manhattan SVU.

Glancing at the number, she immediately recognized the sender, Cragen. _New ADA here any minute. El's pager off. Find him and get up here ASAP. _Letting out an exasperated sigh, she clipped the device back in place with one tan hand while running the other through her shorn, mahogany hair.

Elliot had been a bit off his game all week, dealing with a sudden spike in "personal" issues. Kathy had come back after a 2 week hiatus that had had Elliot biting his nails and muttering, no, cursing under his breath. Now, the duo was thick as thieves, sneaking off at every inopportune moment like a pair of love-sick teens. If the precinct had had bleachers, behind them was the first place Olivia would've checked, fully expecting to stumble upon a mentally scarring make-out session between her partner and one of her closest friends.

Pulling out her scratched-to-death flip-phone, the detective tapped out a short message for her partner as she walked into the precinct's small lounge. She hit send, and a moment later, heard Elliot's favorite ringtone fill the room. The sound caused her to stop dead in her tracks and yank her gaze from her phone's screen, trying to trace the music. Her eyes slid across the room, finding their target just when the tune came to an abrupt and much appreciated end.

_Oh great._ She only just managed to divert her involuntarily face-palm, passing it off as brushing her hair back. However, she couldn't quite hide the smile spreading over her mouth.

El was facing her, perched on a one of two chairs pulled up to a small window table. His left hand was sliding his now-silenced phone (and unread text message) into his shirt pocket, the right resting on a pair of hands belonging to the woman sitting opposite him.

All Olivia could see of her was the back of a purple ski-jacket and medium length hair pulled tight into a ponytail, but it was more than enough. _Kathy._ Her smile threatened to become a grin as she observed unseen for a moment longer.

The two of them, Elliot and Kathy, had met nearly 8 months ago. Olivia, after just over three months of listening to her partner half-kid about lack of romance, and a little longer spent hearing her friend spew theories about how by the time you hit 35, all the good men were taken, had set the couple up. She'd invited them out for drinks at a local pub, the Loft, and mentioned the other would be along. Purposely almost an hour late, she'd snuck in to find Elliot in mid-story and Kathy doing her obnoxious yet sweet "I'm totally interested in you" laugh. The late-comer had immediately turned around and walked back out. A minute later, the pair had each received a barely-noticed apology text from Olivia, explaining she wouldn't make it.

The next day, Olivia hadn't been able to get a word out of her partner for the life of her. But, when 5:00 came around, and Elliot declined an offer to go get take-out from his favorite Chinese restaurant, insisting he had plans instead, she'd known.

Unseen by Kathy and not terribly wanting to ruin the moment, whatever sort of moment it was, she waved Elliot down, catching his eye over his girlfriend's shoulder. Olivia pointed upward and began spelling out "ADA" with her fingers. She had to pause for a moment when a leggy blonde in heels strode past towards the elevators. The woman gave her an odd look from behind a pair of slim, dark-rimmed spectacles. Ignoring it, the detective finished her message, mouthing, "New ADA, upstairs, now," as she did.

Kathy glanced out the window, giving Elliot a chance to mouth, "Cover for me," and raise his hand, fingers extended, asking for five minutes with a pleading look. Olivia wanted to argue, to say no, but he was the senior detective here, and her friend. Shaking her head, she set off for the elevator, giving him a stern look and raising two fingers in place of his five. She left, stepping into the hallway and out of sight before he could try to haggle any further.

As Olivia rounded the corner to the elevators, the same blonde who'd witnessed her wild gestures came into view, standing still with a briefcase held loosely in her left hand as the she inspected the floor directory. The detective couldn't help but admire her thin figure, calves and curves enhanced by two-inch heels and tastefully covered under a fine-cut jacket leading down to a dark skirt, just shy of reaching her knees.

Sliding out of her coat and slinging it over her arm, Olivia straightened the black wife-beater that clung to her own lithe form before approaching the elevators and hitting the call button.

She glanced over. Once upon a time, the directory had probably been in alphabetical order, or perhaps by floor. But, as civil servants came and went, and departments grew and shifted, well, there was very little semblance of order left to be found. Waiting a moment, she cleared her throat and put on a sly grin. "It's probably out of date anyways. Tell me what you're looking for, and I might be able to save you half a day's worth of reading."

The woman's head immediately swung up, revealing a pair of crystalline blue-eyes. They held Olivia's gaze prisoner, threatening for a split moment to break the detective's cool-façade. The danger passed as quickly as it came, and Olivia tore her gaze from the woman's eyes to her mouth, watching its corners curl into a slightly smile.

"My savior." Olivia savored the sound of her voice, slightly deeper than expected. "How about the SVU?"

Olivia's heart sank a little. _Flirting with a sexually abused victim. Damn, Liv, could you get any less sensitive?_

"It seems we're headed the same way," she answered, a little more softly this time. The elevator doors slid open, and she gestured for the blonde to go first, making the woman's smile grow a little more, though Olivia didn't see it. When they were both inside, Olivia hit the button for the fourth floor. The doors slid shut, and they were left in a slightly awkward silence. The detective stepped over to the side, leaning her back against the railing, head tilting back to rest on the wall.

The elevators were remarkably slow. On more than one occasion, she'd raced Elliot, taking the stairs while he rode, and beating him by a solid 6 seconds at best.

"So, are you a cop, or…"

The question startled Olivia, pulling her attention away from her thoughts. The blonde hadn't really seemed like the sort to engage in small talk. "Oh, um, yeah. Detective. Junior Detective, officially." She met the woman's piercing gaze, this time somewhat prepared, and held it.

The doors slid open, stealing both of their attention before the shared look could become uncomfortable. Reaching over with one hand, Olivia blocked the doors, gesturing for the woman to go first once again. As soon as her heels clicked with the tile floor, the detective followed.

"Just head over to that desk, to you right. They'll send you where you need to be."

The blonde inclined her head. "Thank you, Detective."

"Anytime." Olivia held her breath for one last meeting of eyes before turning away and setting out for Cragen's office. It wasn't until she was outside the Captain's door, fist in mid-knock, that she realized she hadn't come up with a good excuse for her missing partner. _Well, too late now…_

"Come in," beckoned a muffled cry.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed down on the copper handle, stepping into the small office.

"Leave it," the Captain ordered as Olivia began to turn to close the door.

Forcing her muscles to relax, the detective let the knob go and faced the man.

Donald Cragen was in his late fifties, and the stress of the job made it show. His head was clean shaven, leaving wrinkles marking years past unhidden on his face. A fair number marked the corners of his eyes and mouth; the Captain was a good-hearted guy, serious about his job, but not adverse to a bit of humor every now and then. El had frequently given Olivia shit for her nervousness in Cragen's presence, mocking her politeness and the almost-militant stance she often fell into when working with the man whom the rest of the detectives often referred to as "Dad."

"Captain, you paged?"

Cragen ignored the question. "Where's Stabler?"

Olivia had to repress a cringe at the direct question. Weighing her options, her mouth opened to make an excuse, but not before another knock rang out. Cragen looked up from his paperwork as the detective turned to find herself looking, once again, into the face of the blonde-hair, blue-eyed beauty from the elevator.

"Captain, I presume?"

Cragen nodded, pushing his chair back and taking to his feet and offering a hand. "Captain Donald Cragen. And you must be our new Assistant District Attorney, Ms. Cabot."

The woman nodded as she offered a smile and stepped forward to shake. Olivia watched, mildly surprised for only a moment. The clean-cut suit and briefcase should've given it away earlier, but after months of working with the now-retired Mr. Briggs, a man who'd been in his late sixties when she'd first met him, the detective had come to associate "ADA" with a remarkable beer-paunch and someone who favored a cheap hairpiece to cover his noticeable bald spot. This gorgeous woman in no way fit that bill.

"Meet Detective Benson. The two of you will be seeing quite a bit of each other," Cragen said as he released the blonde's hand, shifting the lawyer's attention Olivia's way.

"I believe we've already met, Detective." Ms. Cabot offered a hand, accompanied by an unreadable smile.

Olivia returned it in kind, taking her hand in a firm hold. "Nice to put a name to the face. I'm looking forward to working together." Their hands fell apart, cool air rushing over her palm. Her fingers subconsciously flexed, as if missing the warmth. The detective pulled her eyes away as the Captain cleared his throat.

"I was hoping to introduce three more of our top detectives, but Munch and Fin are out on a call. Olivia, anything from Stabler?" Cragen looked at her expectantly.

Olivia cleared her throat, mind in high gear as she tried to come up with an acceptable white lie. The last time she'd told the Captain that Elliot was late because of love-life issues, Cragen had given her partner hell, swearing that if he ever heard the words "Elliot," "late," and "Kathy," in the same sentence again that week, there'd be hell to pay in the form of temporary transfer to Evidence and Filing.

That had been two days ago.

"He was just finishing up lunch downstairs. He should be up any minute," she offered, trying pass it off as nothing.

Cragen wasn't fooled. "Was he with anyone?" he asked, his tone revealing that he'd already guessed the answer.

The junior detective struggled to meet the captain's knowing look. "Um, yes. But her back was turned, so I couldn't tell who it was. Maybe a friend, or, uh, his mother?" she added, vaguely remembering a list of acceptable cover excuses she and Stabler had jokingly created months ago. She rocked back on her heels and tried to find an excuse to set her eyes elsewhere. She was typically a decent liar, but when it came to her boss, well, she felt that the work place had rules, and in this line of work, victims couldn't afford broken trust in the chain of command.

Her eyes found the ADA's once again. Though the counselor couldn't have known what exactly was going on, the slight smirk on her face implied that she knew something was up and made Benson realize just how much she herself was floundering.

"Well, then. Counselor, if you don't mind waiting a moment, we could-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Elliot came striding into the office, running one hand through his dark, speckled-with-the-beginnings-of-graying, hair.

Everybody looked to the newcomer as he looked to Olivia, giving her the chance to silently mouth, "Mother." But when she noticed the red smear on his upper-lip, she couldn't help but let her head fall forward into a waiting palm, covering her face. She prayed Cragen would somehow not notice.

"My ma's been complaining about never getting to see her son's face, so we had lunch," Stabler smoothly elaborated, unaware of the giveaway he was sporting on his face.

Olivia was surprised when the captain didn't mention it. "Senior Detective Stabler, meet our new Assistant District Attorney, Ms. Cabot."

The two exchanged smiles and pleasantries, when a desk cop popped his head through the still-open office door.

"Yes, Hardt?" Cragen asked, acknowledging the man's presence.

"Undercover was found dead near The Teaser. They're saying the case is ours."

Cragen nodded. "Elliot, stop in the bathroom on the way out. And next time, tell your _mother_ to be a little more careful about where her lipstick ends up."

Olivia almost laughed as a beet-red blush sprang up on her partner's cheeks. He turned and nearly ran out of the office.

"Well, Counselor. If you're up to it, it looks like you'll leave here with your first case. Olivia, go with him and get the address. Don't let me down."

"Never, Sir." Olivia turned to leave, and found herself face to face with the ADA. "Counselor," she acknowledged, tipping her head.

The blonde offered a smile and gracious nod. Her face was the last thing in the room she saw as she turned and left the office, falling in beside Hardt.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hardt gave her a grin. "New ADA's a looker, eh?"

"Better than me?" she teased. The desk-clerk-of-a-cop had been a shameless flirt ever since she'd walked in to the precinct and wandered up to the desk, which he'd been working, to ask where she might find Captain Cragen. She still remembered watching his mouth hang open as he searched for the proper words, until Fin came along and made some jibe about it.

"No, but a close second," he corrected. "And I'm starting to think you might never come around."

Olivia rolled her eyes as they stopped beside his desk. _It's about time you figured it out. "_Hey, don't let me hold you back. Just give me that address."

* * *

"How could you let me walk in there without telling me I had lipstick all over my face?" Elliot asked, running a hand over his mouth as he slid into the driver's seat.

His youthful partner chuckled as the unmarked squad car's ignition fired, the engine coming to life a half-second later. "I didn't know your _mother _was so liberal with where she left her lipstick."

El couldn't help but smile. "Well, at least Dad didn't push it this time. Where we headed?"

"Corner of Beaugard and Hamlon," Olivia offered. The location wasn't far, maybe ten fifteen minutes, max.

The pair sat in comfortable silence until Elliot settled into the hectic flow of Manhattan traffic. "So," he began, "what do you think of the new ADA?"

Olivia glanced out the window. The skyscrapers loomed like immovable titans reaching up to devour the murky sky. "Not sure. She acts the part of cold, professional lawyer far better than Briggs ever did, but I wonder how many cases she's got under her belt. Ms. Cabot looks pretty young."

"That's not all looks," he interrupted, smirking. "That woman's got a nice, well, everything." When his partner didn't respond right away, he looked over and took a hand off the wheel just long enough to give her a light push on the shoulder. "Oh c'mon. Don't tell me you're not appreciative."

"It's all in the Rules, El. No relationships with co-workers. Might as well try to avoid temptation wherever I can."

He snorted at that. "Well, technically, she doesn't work for the 1-6, so she isn't _really_ a coworker. But hey, fine, That just means better odds for me, I guess."

"First of all, her expensive suit, haircut, and manicure scream straight, so be my guest. However, more importantly, aren't you supposed to be marrying Kathy or something?"

"What? Did she tell… how did you…" he looked over and realized she had just been kidding, but it didn't take a detective to notice his reaction.

"El… are you and Kathy…?"

He ran a hand over his scalp. "Drop it, Liv. I'll tell you about it later. But now, just focus on the case at hand, would you?"

Olivia's overwhelming curiosity was making her consider pushing it, but her sense of duty won out as she decided he was right. _Besides, I can always ask Kathy. _They sat in silence as they neared the scene; while they both liked to have their moments of fun, neither took to their work with anything less than dead seriousness.

And a cop-killer? It was one step farther; it was almost personal.


	2. Chapter 2

_Update! Time to further plot devices..._

* * *

As Olivia ducked under the tape blocking off the mouth of an alleyway, the smell of death danced across her nostrils. She understood most civilians were under the impression that death has a distinct odor that can only be placed by experience – the myth only has a grain of truth. Death's odor is a mixture of possibly blood and decay, but typically human waste. Something so powerful, so meaningful, as the end of a life, and it smells like a sewer.

But there was also a, a feeling if the body was fresh. She'd asked Elliot about it once, but he had just shaken his head and given her an odd look. This feeling, not unlike someone gently blowing cool air on the back of her neck, joined the stench as she straightened out her spine. Breathing deep, she joined Elliot, who was speaking with the officer in charge.

"Detective Elliot Stabler," he introduced himself, showing his credentials. "My partner, Detective Benson."

The man eyed the badge. "Sergeant Jake Reese. So you're SVU?" he asked half surprised. Olivia nodded, and the officer just shrugged.

"What've we got?" Elliot asked.

The uniform policeman handed Olivia a clipboard. "Garbage man called it in. Officer with the Narcotics. She was working undercover as a dancer at a local club. Photographers have covered most of the area, and your medical examiner should be along shortly, with transport for the body. It's a Miss Claire D. Miller."

Olivia looked at the profile for a moment before looking to her partner. The moment their eyes met, she knew he had something. Though, he seemed to have a sudden release of tension at mention of the woman's name.

"Thank you, Sergeant. We'll take a look around." Elliot strode further down the alley, and Olivia followed, paging through the report.

They found her corpse beside a dumpster, crumpled as if simply dropped there. The junior detective neared the body, carefully watching her step as she moved. She stopped a few feet away and shot a glance over her shoulder to make sure she was out of earshot. "El." Her voice wasn't much more than a sharp whisper.

Elliot didn't respond immediately, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and crouching down over the body. The officer was young, probably close to Olivia's own age. She had orange hair clinging to her motionless face, framing glassy green eyes and much black-and-blue skin. The report said the colors were indeed natural (excluding the bruising, of course). The body was dressed in torn blue jeans, the button and zipper undone and waistband low on her thighs. Her scarlet t-shirt was equally disheveled, torn and stained with dark splotches. Olivia's eyes took in the sight for a moment before trying again.

"El, you know this isn't our case," she said quietly as the older man began nosing around the corpse.

"Hmm, possible rape. Bruises and cuts, but no blood at the scene. I'd say the perp or perps beat her, drug her out, and dumped her here."

The junior detective let out a half tired, half exasperated sigh. When Elliot didn't want to talk about something, and had a decent means by which to divert his attention, he could avoid for hours. There was little choice but to go along with it or try to beat it out of him. Tucking the papers under her arms, she pulled a pair of latex gloves from her coat pocket. The sound of the synthetic material snapping against her wrists was one of surrender.

She settled into a crouch beside the body. "What's this?" A marking on the corpse's belly caught her eye through a tear in the shirt. Making sure she wouldn't be disturbing anything particularly delicate, she slowly peeled the fabric upward. Shallow cuts marring the pale skin became clear, in no way random in their design. "No snitches," she read aloud.

"Well, looks like she knew something someone wanted to keep quiet," Elliot said wryly.

Shaking her head she took to her feet and began inspecting the ground. "Damn. Ground's hard." She was looking for tracks, but the dirt on the alley's floor as frozen solid, despite it only being November 8th. Winter had come to New York early this year, and it wasn't helping them catch the bad guys. "Still, I don't see enough shuffled debris for a literal drag…"

Elliot stood up, looking around. "Well, maybe they carry her from a nearby building, or park on the street? You can't carry a dead body through this part of Manhattan without anyone noticing, even at night." He glanced in the direction of the strip club Miller had been assigned to. "Especially at night," he amended.

Olivia rubbed the back of her sleeve across her brow. Dropped bodies offered less evidence, and without tracks, they would probably get nothing more than whatever Warner could find on the body – a body that wouldn't even really belong in Warner's lab, but rather Homicide's, or maybe Narcotic's.

She considered pressing the issue again when she heard footsteps.

A moment later, the detectives were joined by their medical examiner, accompanied by two men and a fresh body bag. They silently acknowledged each other as the examiner moved to inspect the corpse.

Olivia watched the examiner as she stopped beside the body. Melinda's brow furrowed, the motion quickly followed by her eyes going wide. "Is this-?"

"Claire D. Miller," Olivia supplied helpfully.

Melinda shot the junior detective a bewildered look before turning to Elliot. He said nothing, only shaking his head.

Something passed between the two of them, something that Olivia was missing. Warner suddenly looked a bit less tense. _What's with all the relief passing around? _By the time she had resolved to ask, it was too late. Warner had finished checking over the body for evidence that wouldn't survive transport.

"Bag her, and get her to my table. I'll start in immediately. Detectives." The dark woman took her leave just as quickly as she'd come, leaving Olivia none the wiser as to what was going on.

"Elliot, what was that?" she asked, referring to the loop she'd been left out of.

He ignored the question, refusing to even look at her. "Sweep the area one last time, and let's get out of here."

Annoyed, she did as asked. Starting at the far end of the alley, the pair worked their way to the entrance, searching for anything out of place.

Elliot was just about to call it quits when Olivia caught sight of something alongside a brick wall. "Hey, we've got tire tracks."

It wasn't much. Along the base of the wall, the soil was a touch softer from the warmth of the building. Someone had driven close enough to leave a shallow, poorly defined track, no more than two feet long. Not much, but something.

"Good. We'll get a photographer in here and check it against the garbage truck."

She nodded, and went back to it. When they reached the crime scene's edge, nothing else of note had been found. However, someone of some note had arrived on the crime scene. He was Elliot's height, sporting short blonde hair styled up and a hard, but still young, face. He was half-shouting at the olde rsergeant, who was still guarding the tape. As they neared and ducked under the tape, he stopped and turned his attention to Olivia and her partner.

"Damn. I was hoping to sneak out. Why am I so unlucky?" El murmured to himself.

"Are these them?" The loud man's voice wasn't overly deep and was brimming with dissatisfaction.

Reese nodded wearily and backed off a few steps, clearly hoping that whatever the problem was, it would be unleashed upon the detectives rather than himself.

"Captain Hanson, head of Narcotics," the man introduced himself sharply, though part of its weight was lost in his slightly odd speech cadence. Olivia couldn't quite place an accent, but knew there must've been one at some time or another. "So, when did the SVU begin doing my unit's job?"

"Never. This is a rape case, and within our jurisdiction," Elliot answered a little roughly.

Hanson immediately abandoned all possible diplomacy. "Like hell it is. She was one of ours, undercover on a major bust. It's part of our investigation, and we don't need a couple of uninvolved detectives messing it up. And you're both going to head back to Cragen and tell him that. Give me the clipboard." The last part was directed to Olivia.

_Wow, someone has people skills, _she thought sarcastically.

Elliot was fuming now, the bulging tendons in his neck giving him away. He could handle keeping himself in line through most of the bureaucratic bullshit. She'd never seen him take this sort of muscling from another unit well, but he'd never lost his temper. Olivia knew he was close to it now, and that she had to step up before something regrettable happened.

Both men watched as she stepped forward, holding the clipboard slightly in front of her body. At two feet away, Hanson reached out for it, and Elliot moved to intervene. Before either could complete their motions, Olivia swung her arm out, the clipboard landing lightly on Elliot's chest. She released it, and the senior detective stepped back, fumbling only slightly to catch it.

She took another step before stopping, her face only a hand's breadth from the young captain's. She had an inch on him and used it, staring down unblinkingly into his now slightly widened eyes.

"You're going to leave our crime scene, now, before I lodge a formal complaint and you find that pretty little badge torn away and handed over to someone with a little more competence and tact. And after you've run away, if you somehow manage to find the balls to try again, you can do so with a formal request that my partner and I be taken off the case." Her voice was deadly and low as she spoke with a slow confidence which she didn't at all feel. Her eyes held him, not letting him shift his gaze away from hers. "Let me give you a hand. The name is Benson. B-E-N-S-O-N. Sergeant."

The officer, who was a few feet away and behind her right shoulder, had been quietly observing the situation from his uninvolved standpoint. He jumped at his rank, losing the slight smile on his face as he was called for, and took a step forward. "Yes, Detective?"

"I would be indebted if you would write that down and give it to _Mister Hanson _when you escort him from the crime scene."

The Sargent nodded. "Of course, ma'am." He moved to intervene, opening his shirt pocket to pull out the notepad he'd been using to keep track of visitors to the scene. "C'mon, Captain. You've been asked to leave."

Hanson, expression still startled, stood frozen. It wasn't until Reese moved to take his arm that he finally responded, shaking the Sargent's hand away. "Don't touch me!" was all he said before stomping away, Reese in tow. The uniformed officer shot Olivia a grin over his shoulder as he trailed the man, disappearing around building corner.

As soon as they were out of sight, Olivia let out an audible breathe. The moment was over, and she deflated a bit, running a hand through her hair as she watched the wall they'd disappeared behind, half afraid Hanson would come back.

Elliot let out a low whistle. "C'mon. Let's get back to the precinct."

She looked to him, but Elliot still wouldn't meet her eyes. His dodging was beginning to piss her off. If she was going to be dragged into this case, she couldn't be in only halfway.

"Yeah, let's," she retorted angrily. "Maybe I can read your report and finally know what the hell is going on here. Then, when I get my badge taken for that little stunt, at least I'll have a bit of an idea as to why I'm jobless."

She turned and walked to the car, not waiting to see if he'd follow. She circled it, her hand finding and pulling the passenger side door handle, but before she could get in, he caved.

"Dad's niece."

Olivia looked at him over the squad car, finding his eyes on her. "What?"

Elliot opened the driver's side door. His voice was low as he went on. "The captain's niece is working Miller's assignment, too. He was afraid it might have been her. She replaced another woman on the case, who was killed with the same IMO. Case went cold, Narcotics said they couldn't find enough to piece anything together." It was all he gave before disappearing into the vehicle.

It all finally fell into place as Olivia stood for a moment, staring into the space where Elliot had just been. That was the girl Cragen was always bragging about in the office, that he was always telling proud stories about when they chatted about family. And it made sense; Cragen must've pulled strings to get the case thrown their way. They did have a small claim, the sign of rape clear, but not much.

She took a deep breath; there was no way she was going to let the captain down on this. Silently vowing not to let this one go cold, she slid inside, slamming the shut door behind her.

* * *

A quiet tension had fallen over the precinct, the mood washing over Olivia and her partner the moment they stepped off the elevator. It was clear word about their latest case had gotten around.

Munch looked up from his desk as they entered the main room, his dark eyes somber behind his thick glasses. "Bad?"

Elliot shook his head. "Wasn't her. Not the worst we've gotten, but-" He let it hang, but all three knew what he meant.

Nodding, John gestured towards the Captain's office. "He said to send you in when you got back."

Olivia and Elliot thanked them and made their way for the door. The junior took a deep breath and glanced up at the precinct's clock as her partner's knuckles rapped against the wood. 6:07 pm. It had been late when they'd come into meet Ms. Cabot. Now, it was past her shift's end. She didn't complain.

"Come in."

Elliot went first, Olivia on his heels. They found Cragen sitting behind his desk, pen scratching away at a pile of paperwork. They stopped in front of him.

The captain didn't look up. "What did you find?"

Elliot stared hard at the seated man. "Claire D. Miller." Cragen's shoulders slackened a little at the name, losing a bit of their pent-up tension to relief. "She was dumped, post-mortem. Not much to go on yet, but Warner should fix that. Head of Narcotics came by to scare us off, but we got rid of him. For now." Elliot glanced over at Olivia, who blushed slightly at the look. "I want copies of the case files for whatever she was working on. Maybe she found something notable."

Cragen nodded. He kept to his paper work, but his relief was visible in the slackening of certain muscles. "You'll have them. I'm trying to keep this in our ballpark, and ours alone, but Narcotics is pushing it, and Homicide might try something. But Warner won't be done with her examination tonight, and we've got officers outside of her apartment. We'll get a warrant for her home from our new counselor in the morning."

"Sir, are you sure about you want on this one?" Olivia interrupted. "She's untested."

Cragen shook his head. "I looked into her background. Cabot is a name on many lips in the higher echelons, and we need any connections we can get. Hopefully she'll be as good as her father, but on our side this time. Get some rest. I want this solved, and fast."

Olivia took her leave, saying quick farewells to her partner and a few other detectives as she made her way to the elevators and then the parking complex. She pondered the new case, and felt a bit out of her medium. This was big, something that had been started by another unit and going on for long enough to have serious complications. It was going to be a beast to put a name to a killer.

Sighing, she unlocked the door to her Mustang, and settled on at least one thing. She was going to do all she could to ensure whoever was behind it was put away, and before they could get to Dad's family. She held no grand illusions as to her capabilities, but she would give it her best.

It was the only honest promise she could make.


	3. Chapter 3

_A little less plot-filled this chapter; felt like we needed a moment of lightheartedness before the delving into the dark._

* * *

Olivia looked uncertainly at the brass handle to the precinct. _So close…_ Struggling, she tried to hook it with an elbow.

No go.

Sighing, she alternated her gaze to the five lidded cups of coffee filling her hands and then back to the uncooperative door. Somehow, the coffee shop down the street had unluckily run out of cardboard trays, and for some unknowable and now well regretted reason, Olivia had decided she could manage without.

Noticing her shined work boots on the pavement below as she stared at the beverages, she realized how desperate she was becoming for the idea to even cross her mind. Shifting her weight to one foot, she lifted the other, planning to hook it between the handle and door.

But before things could go awry, the door opened by what at first seemed to be an invisible guardian spirit, but quickly turned out to be a mixed blessing.

"Hey Olivia! Let me help you."

The junior detective suppressed a sigh that would've been an oxymoronic mix of relief and exasperation had it slipped past her tight smile. "Officer Hardt. Good timing." She used his title as a shield, stiff and protectively distant in its formalness. 7:15 AM was too early to deal with Hardt in her books.

He moved to take some of her burden as she walked past him and into the warm precinct, but she shook her head. "I wouldn't want to keep you from wherever you were headed, God forbid make you come all the way back up to the precinct with me."

The officer gave her a cheesy smile. "Then at least let me get the elevators for you?" As he said it, Cragen appeared around the corner, heading towards them.

"Captain!" Olivia called him over. "Cup farthest to the left."

"My left or yours?" he asked.

"Yours. Low-caf with sugar."

He smiled, taking it from the crook of her elbow. "Thanks, detective. Remind me you deserve a promotion," he said, striding past the pair. Olivia returned the expression. She knew he had said it in an effort to keep his mood light in the shadow of this new case, and she appreciated it.

"Will do, sir," she called after him in mock seriousness. When the doors closed, the smirk faded from her lips with the realization that the flirty desk-clerk-of-an-officer was still there, staring unabashedly at her chest. She cleared her throat.

He shook his head as if snapping out of a daydream. "Elevators. No is not an option."

The two made their way in what was an uncomfortable silence for Olivia as she walked slowly to ensure the young man didn't manage to get far enough behind her for a show. They made the doors without incident, and as soon as the compartment was cleared, she stepped in.

"I owe you one, Officer. Next time, I'll bring you one," she said, trying not to roll her eyes.

His grin reappeared. "How about your number instead?"

Trying not to wince, she realized her right hand was out of his field of sight and pushed a desperate knuckle into the button to close the doors. Suddenly, the compartment was shutting and the awkward situation passed, elevator shuttling farther and farther away from the stalker-ish officer.

As she walked into the 1-6, she found her three favorite detectives were all in, and they had a visitor. She watched, unobserved for a moment, in the door way.

Elliot was the center of attention, seated at his desk, leaning forward on his elbows when his hands weren't illustrating his words. He was clearly in mid-story. Munch was at the coffee station, back towards her position, occasionally looking over at her partner with his customary crazy grin. Reclined in his chair was Fin, arms crossed over his chest, grinning.

The fourth was perched on edge of Olivia's desk, watching Elliot's animated gestures with a slight smirk and charged blue eyes. _Ms. Cabot._ The ADA's early morning visit was an impressive effort on her part. The counselor was leaning back on the wooden surface, legs crossed and bare to a little above her knees under a pinstripe skirt. Her coat was off, slung across one of her arms, the other hand braced on the desk. With a crisp white shirt tucked in, and sophisticated rims, she looked polished.

Olivia's ears pricked and her eyes roved as she realized Elliot retelling the story of her intervention yesterday.

"-I'm pissed, and next thing I know, she's up in his face and puts on this deep, scary voice I've never heard, and says something like, 'You're going to run out of this crime scene, or you'll find an official complaint against you and that pretty-boy badge in the hands of someone competent. And when you're gone, if you find the balls to come back, do it with a formal order removing me and my partner from the case. The name's Benson. I'll even spell it for you. B-E-N-S-O-N."

Fin started cracking up as John filled a mug with brew and handed it to the counselor. The lawyer offered a quiet "Thank you" before returning her attention Elliot.

"But wait, that's not even the best part. She calls the sergeant back over, and tells him to write the spelling down and give it to Hanson while he was being escorted from the scene. The sergeant pulls out his notebook and does it, and Hanson walks off like an idiot, no words, officer on his heels."

Olivia decided it was a good time to interrupt. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being talked about?" she asked, putting on an honest smile.

She caught the blonde lawyer's eyes. "Ms. Cabot," she greeted as she set Elliot's cup on his desk. "I needed to speak with you. Would you mind being my lawyer when Internal Affairs starts hunting me on behalf of Captain Hanson?" She set a cup in front of Fin and another into John's waiting hands, finally left only with her own coffee warm in her hands.

"Don't worry Liv. Hardt would never let them take you away without a fight," Fin teased. It was common knowledge to everyone but the officer himself that he wasn't Olivia's type.

"Hey, not funny. He almost followed me up here, and he actually got up the nerve to ask for my number. I thank whoever invented that nifty button for closing elevator doors." She turned to Ms. Cabot. "You think you could throw in a restraining order?"

The lawyer was looking back, bright teeth showing in an amused smile. Olivia immediately loved the expression. "I don't know. It would cost you." The blonde lifted the mug to her lips to take a sip, but Olivia startled her as she grabbed her arm to halt the cup.

"Did Munch make that?" Olivia asked.

The blonde gave her a confused look and nodded.

Shaking her head, Olivia snatched the cup away from the lawyer. Before the ADA could protest, the dark-haired detective dumped the dark liquid into a trash can and set the mug on her desk. "Trust me, it's a toxic sludge that only smells like coffee. It's taken me nine months to build a tolerance for it, and even so, I still get sick every now and then."

"Hey," John said mock-indignantly, but Olivia ignored him.

"How do you take it?"

The lawyer cocked her head, as if measuring. "Dark, sometimes with a little cream."

Olivia grinned and stuffed her own untasted cup into the lawyer's hands. "Perfect. I'm the same."

Ms. Cabot immediately tried to return it. "Oh no, I couldn't-"

"Too late, Ms. Cabot. No take backs. I'd rather have you take mine and have nothing than let you drink Munch's and never get to see you again. Consider it a down-payment. Now, about our case-" she began, changing the subject before further protestations could occur.

The lawyer looked at her, uncertain, before letting it go with a nod. Leaning to the side, she picked up a manila folder that had been resting on the junior detective's desk and held it between them. "Warrants, as requested."

Olivia raised an eyebrow in mild surprise as she reached out to take them. "Which judge's dreams did you interrupt, and how much do they hate us now?" she asked, trying to hide the fact that she was rather impressed.

Ms. Cabot took a sip of the coffee and hummed appreciatively before smiling. "Such a pessimist. Not all the judges in New York are lazy bureaucrats. Not quite."

"Hey, I'm not a pessimist. I'm an opportunist. Burning bridges is great if it gets these results." Olivia looked to her partner's desk, but his chair sat empty. Glancing around, she spied him near the open door to the lobby, chatting with an officer who was pushing a trolley piled with a few file boxes. The man hefted one off the top and pushed it into Elliot's arms before departing with his load.

"Narcotics sent us a present." Elliot came over and set the box down beside the lawyer.

"Hm. Could we follow up the warrant first? I've got a feeling it's not the sort of gift I'm going to like," Olivia mumbled, reinforcing the image of her infamous hatred for paperwork. Elliot nodded and went for his coat.

"You must've made a good impression to be getting presents the very next day, Olivia," Fin called out without looking up from a form in front of him.

The junior detective tried to cover up her slight blush with a grin to the ADA. "See? Opportunist."

Ms. Cabot shook her head in amusement and took to her feet. "Well, I'd best leave you all to it," she said, picking up dark designer coat. It was a twist on the sort of business coats old, over-weight tycoons wore this time of year, but with large buttons and a slimming cut. She set her coffee down for a moment as she put it on.

"We'll walk out with you, Counselor," Elliot offered, shrugging his shoulders as he slid into his coat.

The counselor nodded once, offering farewells to the other two detectives before the trio walked of the office and into an elevator. Elliot made small talk with the counselor while Olivia skimmed over the warrant and address. Before she knew it, they were beside the large glass doors which led to the cold streets.

Olivia went out first, holding the door for the other two who were voicing goodbyes, Elliot heading over to the driver's side of their unmarked car parked at the curb once the dictates of politeness were satiated.

"Well, Ms. Cabot," the junior detective said with a nod, turning to follow her partner who was already waiting in the now-running vehicle. She was reaching for the passenger side door handle when she heard her name.

"Wait, Detective Benson."

Looking up, she saw the ADA hurrying towards her. The blonde was digging in her coat pocket with one hand.

"What do I owe you?" She nodded slightly toward the cup of coffee, stopping a few feet beside the detective.

Olivia released the door handle and waved her away, trying to ignore the slight vein of displeasure that ran through her, unsure if it was due to the counselor's departure or attempt to pay her. She reached out and lightly touched the arm which was clearly searching for a pocket book, halting its motions. "Nothing. Having the local ADA in my pocket could come in handy later," she answered with a sly smile.

The lawyer cocked her head, crystal eyes digging into Olivia's for a moment before replying. "It takes more than a cup of coffee for that." She was smirking now. "Detective."

Olivia Benson watched the woman's retreating form, trying to decipher that last look she'd received. "Counselor." The word was little more than a private murmur, the cloud of her breath its only giveaway to any on-looker.

A rap on the window beside her woke her from the moment. Elliot was leaning over, looking out at her curiously. Shaking the encounter from her thoughts, Olivia reached for the cold metal handle and slid inside.

She settled into the cheap fabric seats and snapped the seatbelt into place as the car carried her away from the curb.

"So, what was that all about?" Elliot asked, eyes never leaving the street as he merged with the morning traffic.

"Nothing. She tried to pay me for the coffee but I told her it was alright. That was it."

"Hmm. Suuure." Elliot chanced a quick, sly look at his partner. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey. How about instead of trying to create a discussion about drama where there is none, we find a topic that has some. Like, how about you and Kathy?" she asked, recalling the previous day's incident.

He blanched a little at the suggestion, and Olivia fought to hide a teasing grin that was growing despite her honest curiosity.

"So, what's the address?" he asked after a moment, ignoring the subject.

His partner looked at him, chocolate eyes bright and interested. It was obvious something was going on, and she'd regrettably forgotten to shoot Kathy a text last night. Swearing not to repeat the mistake tonight, she let the subject drop. "1310 North Suten."

Elliot relaxed his grip on the wheel a little and she sunk a little farther into her seat, settling on gazing out at the brightening sky as they sped towards what would hopefully be enlightening answers. She sighed at the optimistic thought.

When were things ever that simple?


End file.
